I made a strangled sound at that and looked at Wellyth. “Go back and ask if they would take me in Meri’s place.”
“You don’t give orders here,” he said, but added gently, “It wouldn’t do Lady Merista any good.”
“The Inquisitor wants me,” I insisted.
“But he’ll take you both.” Lyll leaned over and took my arm. “Celyn. We’ll find another way. Petr, please convey our regrets to His Grace’s men concerning their generous offer. Find out what their demands are regarding Lady Merista’s ransom, and when we can have her returned to us pending trial.”
Wellyth looked even grimmer. “I’m sorry, Your Ladyship. There’s to be no ransom.”
Lyll finally sighed and pressed her eyes closed, a hand covering her face. “Then there’s nothing we can do,” she said.
“No!” I cried. “How can you say that? Milady — they only have twelve Greenmen. I know the Confessors are armed, but I’m sure the Bryn Shaer guard is strong enough, and —”
They were staring at me, brows drawn, faces hard. I blinked back. “What?”
Lady Cardom spoke up. “Are you suggesting we mount some kind of — rescue mission, girl?”
“Why not?”
“With the king’s army camped outside?” Sposa said. “Impossible.”
“But it’s Meri —”
“Enough!” Lord Antoch’s voice boomed out. “Have done. Everyone — just go back to your rooms and wait for word. I’m sure we’ll learn their next move soon enough.”
I was about to make another protest when Lyll shook her head. “It’s over, Celyn. They’ve won. It’s time to cut our losses and retreat.”
“What does that mean?”
She glanced briefly at her husband. “We’ll begin negotiations to turn ourselves in for conspiracy. Maybe then they’ll be persuaded to spare Meri.”
“No, you can’t,” I said, my voice desperate. I felt dazed; how had it come to this?
Lady Lyll gave my fingers a faint, fluttering squeeze, but didn’t meet my eyes as she rose to leave, Lord Antoch close behind her. The others drifted away as well, until I was alone with the Cardom, Marlytt, and Eptin Cwalo.
Cwalo sat beside me. “I said you were fearless,” he said softly. “Good girl.”
“And I told you I hate to lose.”
Lady Cardom regarded me evenly across the court. “I always did find Lyllace Nemair and Petr Wellyth a little overcautious for my tastes,” she said.
I looked up sharply. “You don’t agree with them?”
“No,” she replied. “Any pretense of negotiation is delaying the inevitable, and the longer Lady Merista is in their custody, the worse it will go for her.”
A chill went through me. She was very direct — but it gave me some hope. “Will you help me do something?”
Lady Cardom almost smiled. “Antoch saved my husband’s life at Kalorjn,” she said. “What do you propose?”
CHAPTER THIRTY-FOUR
An hour later, bent over the desk in Lady Cardom’s chambers, we had the framework of a plan. Eptin Cwalo and the Cardom were eminently practical, devising the all-important leg of the journey that came after the comparatively minor matter of freeing Meri from the immediate clutches of the Inquisition. We recruited Berdal, who was more than happy to sign on for any adventure on behalf of the Nemair, though he sobered when Cwalo explained his role in the mission.
“Your job will be to get Lady Merista as far from Bryn Shaer as quickly as possible. Pick up horses where you can, and use the network of informants and sympathizers to send word to the Nemair when you reach safety.”
I’d nicked a map of the castle and its grounds from the white tower workroom, and Berdal studied it now. “But where should I take her?”
“Don’t tell us!” I put in. “Just pick a direction and go. Deep into the mountains, if you have to. And trust Meri; she knows the land around Bryn Shaer.” But I quietly added, “If you’re looking for allies, a party of Sarists known to Lady Nemair left via the Breijardarl tunnels two nights ago. They may still be reachable.”
He pointed to the map. “I’ve been watching the soldiers’ movements since they arrived; there’s a period of about ten minutes when the patrols don’t overlap — here, near the mews — during every shift. We should be able to get out unseen then.”
The only hitch in this plan was that there was no time to consult Meri regarding her feelings about any of this. “She didn’t want to run,” I said, recalling her adamancy when I’d pressed her to go with Wierolf and Reynart. “She wanted to stay and defend Bryn Shaer.”
“I’m sure she’ll find it preferable to the Bloodletter’s gallows,” Lady Cardom said drily.
I took Marlytt to find Lyll and Antoch. Her role was to attach herself publicly to the Nemair, making sure they remained visibly blameless in their daughter’s escape.
Moving around Bryn Shaer was not as easy as it had once been. The dozen Greenmen seemed to be every where, and they were not particularly inclined to let a couple of waiting women pass freely. We had to stop and account for our movements more than once — as well as fend off the wandering hands of one lecherous guard on duty near the Armory, who thought I looked like easy prey. Marlytt talked him down before I broke his fingers.
The Nemair were in Lady Lyll’s quarters, a Greenman stationed at the open door. Lord Wellyth sat with them, shuffling through a sheaf of papers. Lord Antoch rose to meet us, and I saw with some shock that he’d been crying. Impulsively I opened my arms to him, and let him squeeze me until I felt a rib crack.
“Milord,” I whispered, holding tight to his arms. “Where is the opening to the passage behind your bed?”
His massive, blocky body stiffened, but he murmured into my hair. “The roof. It — it’s for stargazing.”
I let out all my breath and squeezed him back. “Thank you.”
“Celyn —” He caught me as I pulled away, and looked hard into my eyes. “Don’t do anything foolish.”
What was one more lie? “Of course not.”
The Cardom had agreed to divert the attentions of the people guarding Meri long enough for the rest of us to affect the rescue. Lady Cardom had smiled thinly and predicted that this should pose no problems.
And my job? Nick a priceless trea sure from Lord Antoch’s rooms without getting caught, of course.
It was a solid plan, once Berdal and I had worked out the logistics of the job. Roof access was inconvenient, but not impossible. There was one tense and ridiculous moment, when Berdal and I were slipping up the servants’ stair and heard footsteps descending toward us. I flung myself at him, pulling him into a passionate embrace — which probably had the opposite of the effect I’d intended, making us actually more noticeable, particularly since I had to stand two steps up from Berdal to even make the maneuver possible. When the guards finally spiraled down out of view, Berdal broke away from me, his face purple from the effort of not laughing.
“Sorry,” I sputtered. “I panicked.”
“Just glad I was here,” he said smoothly.
“Hopefully that was the last of the Greenmen,” I said, tallying them up in my head, and continued on up. The Lodge attics were little more than cramped, narrow passageways extending the length of each wing, but doors beneath the eaves opened onto tiny stone walkways running along the roofline. I’d been up there only once before, my first week spying for Daul, and I’d loved the exhilarating height and the blasting wind.
There were no locks on these little doors; there was no point. Particularly in the dead of winter, when ice coating the frame and the hinges and the latches had frozen every thing shut.
“Hells,” I said, giving the door a fruitless tug. This was as bad as the lock on Daul’s door. I hated to use such a pretty blade for such an inelegant purpose, but I pulled out my dagger and started to dig away at the crack between door and frame.
“Stop,” Berdal said. “Here.” He threw his shoulder hard into the door, then braced his foot against the
wall and heaved. The door popped open with an ungodly sound, shards of shattered ice raining down on the attic floor. “Gods — do you think they heard that?”
I shook my head, slipping my knife back into its sheath; weird attic noises were beyond the scope of Greenmen’s duties. As we stepped out onto the ledge, a swirl of snow rose up in the icy wind, and I had to lift my hand before my face. “This is horrible,” I said, trying to keep my voice low, even in the screaming wind. “Are you going to manage?”
“Lead the way,” Berdal cried back, crouching as he moved along. “And remind me to ask how you got so adept at climbing about on castle rooftops when you can’t even ride a horse.”
“You’re a fair hand at this too.”
“I’m a mountain boy, remember?”
We followed the footway to a terraced landing behind the Round Court’s domed roof, which shielded us from the worst of the wind. A flight of narrow steps linked the landing to the battlements curving past the Lodge. The door to Lord Antoch’s passage was hidden behind a decorative corbel shaped like a bear and buried under a foot of snow. Inside we could see a narrow iron ladder fixed to the wall of the snug passageway.
“Are you sure about this?” Berdal said, staring into the darkness.
“It’s nothing,” I said, lowering myself over the edge. I gave him a grin I didn’t quite feel. “I’ll have her back in a minute. Try not to fall off the roof.”
The ladder led to a narrow crawl space almost directly above Antoch’s rooms, then a tight staircase dropped into the space between his chamber and the servants’ stair. I knew I was near when I heard angry voices, muffled through the walls of wood and stone. I couldn’t make them out, but I prayed it was the Cardom, starting their per for mance. I felt through the dark for the end of the stairs, the back of Antoch’s paneling, a latch in the wall. My fingers had just worked out the mechanism when a shrill voice in the distance declared, “Absolutely disgraceful!”
Lady Cardom, right on schedule. I took a deep breath.
I flipped the latch, easy, easy, just tapped it open . . . The door slid silently sideways, tucking back neatly inside the wall. Listening first, I could hear nothing between Lady Cardom railing in the hallway, and the almost soundless rustle of the heavy tapestry hanging in front of me. Now behind Antoch’s bed, I sank down, feeling for the bottom of the bed frame.
As Lady Cardom carried on outside, I slid onto my belly and pulled myself under the bed, pushing forward with my toes. My shoes were wet and my feet were cold, and I left a trail of damp behind me that we’d have to crawl through again. Fortunately there was plenty of daylight seeping through the heavy bed-hangings, and nearly enough room underneath for me to sit up without hitting my head on the straps holding the mattresses in place.
“Is this how all His Grace’s interrogations are carried out? I tell you, the things I’ve seen in this house —”
I inched forward and found a gap in the curtain panels, lifting them aside so I could see into the room. Meri’s chair was still by the fireplace — which was still unlit, the savages — and I only spotted one pair of green boots beneath a long green hemline. I eased myself to the far side of the bed and slipped out into a snug alcove between the bed and the wall, still mostly hidden from view, unless somebody decided to look straight at the bed itself.
I peered round the corner. Meri was facing the wrong direction; she’d have to turn halfway around to see me, and I was going to have to cross half the open room to reach her. As I waited, debating my next move, a Confessor appeared, carrying a book, and seated himself right across from Meri. Pox — he was going to read scripture to her. This could take all afternoon.
Blessedly, at that moment Lady Cardom’s protests hit a new level. “I will not be manhandled by you, young man!” she cried, quickly followed by the outraged voice of Lord Cardom: “Take your hands off my mother! Can’t you see she’s frail? Guard! Help! Guard!”
Meri turned her head toward the door, startled, and as she glanced across the room, her eyes caught mine. They went wide suddenly, but darted away again just as quickly. She was pale, and there was no way to tell what she was thinking, but my heart was hammering wildly.
“Take your hands off me!” Lady Cardom’s voice was loud and incensed. “In my day, servants of the Holy Mother would never have disgraced themselves this way!”
Suddenly Meri spoke to her Confessor. “Oh, don’t you think you should see what’s happening?” she said, her sweet voice wavering with concern. “I think he might hurt her!”
For a brief, deadly moment, I worried the Confessor would ignore her. But he was young, and kept casting ner vous glances toward something in the corner I could not see. Finally he set the book down in his seat and got up to investigate.
Now! I scurried out into the room, but Meri was shaking her head wildly. I edged backward, frowning, and she nodded toward the obscured corner, carefully mouthing one word to me.
Werne.
Damn.
I had to get Meri out of here before the Cardom got themselves arrested too. A moment later, Meri looked straight at me and yelled, “Help! Help! I think he’s going to kill her! Your Grace, come quickly!”
I froze, my heart in my throat, but Meri showed no fear.
“What is it now?” said a cross, low voice, and Werne stepped into my field of vision. He stared at Meri with contempt and loathing, but she met his gaze, her eyes wide and innocent.
“Your Grace,” she pleaded. “Might you go see what that fuss is? I truly do think someone might be hurt.”
“I told you silence, blasphemer!” He turned back, and Meri looked at me despairingly. I had just decided to dash forward anyway and fight it out as I could, when from the hallway, Lady Cardom gave one piercing, heart-stopping scream.
“What in Celys’s name?” Werne spun on his heel and headed toward the door. I dived for Meri, skidding across the floor and then searching through the silver chains for the tiny locks. I fumbled through my bodice for my thinnest lock pick. Could I snap the chains? They were so thin — I bent my head to take a link in my teeth and gave a yank sideways with my head. The delicate chain popped apart, but something burned on my lips and tongue, and for a moment my vision blurred.
Out in the hallway, I heard Eptin Cwalo’s smooth voice trying to calm everybody down. I frantically unwound the chains, but my fingers felt strangely fat and I couldn’t work them fast enough. I finally got one of Meri’s hands free, and she fought through the bonds with me, until they were loose enough for her to pull her other hand out.
“They’re coming back,” she whispered, and I grabbed her bodily and shoved her, none too gently, down underneath the bed.
“Go, go!” I hissed, right behind her.
“Where?” she said wildly, her face pressed to the floor.
“Straight back — there’s a hidden door, you’ll go right through!”
Meri found it, thank the gods, just as Cwalo’s voice grew closer and more distinct. He was in the room now, and he had to keep them occupied long enough for Meri and me to reach the roof. Otherwise they’d tear the room apart until they found our escape route.
“Quickly now, or they’ll find us,” I said, coming up behind Meri in the passage. I slid the little door closed, wishing I had some way to jam it shut.
“Here,” Meri said, and she passed something thin into my hand in the darkness. It felt like a hairpin, long and flexible. I bent it open and thrust it between the back of the door and its narrow track. It wouldn’t stop anyone determined — but it might keep the hidden door from being discovered immediately. “I took it from one of the Confessors when she bent over me to check the chains,” she explained. “I thought it might be useful, somehow.”
I was too astonished to say anything, just nudged Meri forward, up the narrow stair. “Can you make a light?”
In the darkness I felt her shake her head. “There was something — wrong about the chains,” she whispered. “It wasn’t ordinary silver; it burned.”
That would account for the strange taste in my mouth. “That’s all right,” I said. “Just go quickly and try not to bump your head. Two flights up, and we’ll be on the roof.”
She barely faltered in her climb, and in a moment we could see the square of light from the open trapdoor above. Weak with relief, I pushed Meri upward. “Berdal’s standing guard,” I said. “Do you see him?”
She climbed out onto the snowy terrace, and I could see her looking down the roofline. “Yes, he’s —” but whatever else she said was lost to the wind. I saw her stumble forward, out of my view, and I climbed up after her — as a dark, scarred face bent low to meet mine.
“Hello, little mouse,” Daul said, and something hard and cold smashed into my face.
CHAPTER THIRTY-FIVE
Something was dragging on my arm, and I heard whimpering. I felt myself stumble, then get jerked to my feet again. Gradually the red fog of my vision cleared, and I saw that I was being pulled along the roofline by Daul, who was prodding Meri along before him, a silver-handled pistol at her back.
“Daul!” I tried to shout, but my voice was slurred and dull, and my mouth was full of blood. I must have bitten my tongue when he hit me, probably with that pistol-butt. He glanced back, saw I was alert, and grinned cruelly.
“Welcome back, little mouse. We missed you.”
“What are you doing? Let us go!” He was jerking me along so erratically I couldn’t get to my knife; it took all my effort just to stay upright and keep up. I yanked hard on my arm, but didn’t even throw him off stride.
“Not yet, I don’t think,” he said. “You’ll enjoy this next part.” He pulled me toward him, trying to line me up with Meri. “I’m going to return His Grace’s prizes to him.”
“Don’t do this!”
Daul ignored me. He was leading us from the roof toward the broad ramparts of the bailey wall. Meri was shivering — from cold or fear I couldn’t tell. I’d only meant to have her up here a moment, before Berdal bundled her in fur and whisked her to safety inside the attic.
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